News flash: I’m an inherently timid person. In fact, I’m the antithesis of my husband, Rune, although 99.999% of the planet is too. Over the decades, he has laughed in the face of death; going so far as to taunt Death by giving him wedgies and sticking “kick me” signs on his back. He skis downhill like a errant bullet, he gallops atop a horse like the Lone Ranger, he tears up the race track on his Ducati like a pro, all without the slightest hint of fear. Palms dry. Mouth moist. Underwear pristine.
I, on the other hand, even feel apprehensive when I’m at a party among people I don’t know. Even people I know a little. But I do have a track record of facing those fears by pushing myself off the cliff toward them. For instance, I have always detested flying. Most of that is due to the horrid motion sickness I inherited from my father. I pride myself on fact that I alone know exactly what happens on a plane after all the other passengers have left. I feel an intimate relationship with the cleaning crew who dig gum out of the seats, collect snot infested tissues from the ash trays, and reluctantly remove my bloated sick sack after I slowly nod my pale green countenance in affirmation. I can’t count the number of times that I’ve been unloaded into the care of my parents via wheelchair. Nevertheless, while I was in my Internal Medicine residency, I felt compelled to get my private pilot’s license. I was a bundle of nerves before every lesson, making several trips to the bathroom prior to each one. On one of my solo cross country flights, I encountered some bumpy air and got sick enough to have to throw up in my flight computer case. But I did manage to land the plane in one piece. Facing fear nearly always has its advantages though. Pursuing flying lead me to my husband. He was my flight instructor. Now, I’m satisfied to fly Southwest and munch on peanuts with a motion sickness patch attached stealthily under my blouse.
Since then, I’ve sparred with other monsters like wakeboarding, motorcycling, skiing, scuba diving, and yep, even raising five (gulp) kids. Most recently, in an attempt to find an activity that I can enjoy with my husband, I’ve started horseback riding. This is no safe pastime, as Christopher Reeves could have testified. In fact, the first time I got on one since childhood was one of the most death defying feats of my life. The woman who tacked up the horse failed to cinch the saddle properly so that when I was loping up a steep embankment, it began to slip off. At the crest of the cliff, I grabbed futilely for a nearby tree, but momentum had already signed my dance card. I slipped off the horse and toppled, head over heels, looking none too graceful. At the bottom, my head slammed hard against the ground creating a sizable crater in helmet and causing me to see lots of pretty little stars. The wind was knocked out of me. I felt dazed. Stunned. As I was slowly performing inventory on various body parts, I heard my husband’s panic-stricken voice from above shouting “Elisa, MOOOVE!!!!!” Within seconds, I was aware of what sounded like a large herd of buffalo hurtling down upon me. I thought I was a goner when, shortly after, the horse’s entire 900 pound body, hooves up, landed on my back. When he struggled to right himself, I could feel ass and hooves pummeling me into a slab of ground chuck. Holy crap, it hurt. Eventually, Rune helped me up and I limped up the cliff observing in amazement the concerned, “deer in the headlights” look on his face. Fear of losing someone he loves is perhaps the only fear he knows. Once we reached the top, I dusted myself off and against my better judgment, got back on my horse, figuratively and literally. The real pain set in later that night. When I lost consciousness, Rune and my son, Erik, took me to a nearby emergency room because a week or so before, the whole Natasha Richardson thing had happened. In the end, I suffered several broken ribs, a lung contusion and a concussion. Now, when I ride horses, I do so with trepidation and respect, but I adore them and enjoy their companionship.
That said, fear will make you a stronger person if you survive. It helps you learn what limits you have mentally, emotionally and physically. If you encourage yourself to push against those limits, they begin to expand, and fear, that big black monster, becomes a shrinking violet. You can have power over your fears. All you have to do is nudge yourself into the darkness.
Awesome post! Really enjoyed it. Great writing.